A Series of Alternate Events
by Miss Pseudonymous
Summary: There were plenty of opportunities for Margaret and Thornton to have gotten together earlier. Shall we explore each one?
1. Foolish Passion

**PREMISE: Why wait 400 pages? There were plenty of opportunities for Margaret and Thornton to have gotten together earlier! Shall we explore each one? **

(Let me know if you've found another possibility!)

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**SETTING: Takes up the story at the end of episode 3 of the mini-series. Margaret attempts to thank Thornton for saving her from the inquest. He asks her to provide an explanation for her behavior that night at the station, but when she explains that she can give none, he casts her off with the following words:**

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~ ~ ~ FOOLISH PASSION ~ ~ ~**

"I hope you realize that any foolish passion for you on my part is entirely over. I'm looking to the future." Eyes blazing and mouth set, he turned sharply and strode toward the stairs.

Margaret blinked back tears. As if she didn't know! How _could_ he still care for her, knowing her to be a liar as he did? She knew he was too honorable to suspect her of actual impropriety, but he knew of her indiscretion, and with no explanation to temper it, could be forgiven for imagining the worst. And yet she could not tell him! She would not – she would not betray her brother to satisfy her own selfish wish to be reinstated in the good opinion of the man she had come to love so dearly. The pain of unrequited love shot through her as she watched him walk away, and the irony brought a wry smile to her lips.

"I suppose that even a gentleman would be incapable of not triumphing at the reversal of our positions."

She had spoken quietly, not even herself aware that it was said aloud. He heard her, for despite his strongest attempts to convince himself, he was still desperately attached to her, and was always attuned to her every movement. He turned back to face her, only to just catch her wistful, sad look before she corrected herself and, straightening her back, composed her expression and turned to leave the room herself.

He strode toward her and arrested her exit with a firm hand on her arm. She wheeled around in surprise, and he dropped his hand from its instinctive, inappropriate gesture. He was too focused on her words to recollect himself enough to beg her pardon.

"Reversal of our positions?"

She blushed to realize he had overheard, but looked up at him with a meek, though direct gaze. He looked down at searchingly, his heart pounding, though all she perceived was stern disapproval. "Reversal?" he prompted again.

"Yes," she finally said, "Now that you despise me –"

"I despise you!"

"You take no trouble to conceal it."

He straightened his back. "I won't deny that I'm… confused and disappointed."

"Disappointed?"

"I would have hoped that you could offer some explanation to remove my doubts."

"There – you see! Doubts. Suspicions. There is contempt in your every glance. I can't bear it." She turned her head away.

"You certainly imagine you know what contempt is," he said bitterly, "having shown me enough of your own. But you are, nevertheless, mistaken."

"Mistaken and repented. If I could take back what I said to you, I would. I'm too ashamed even to ask for your forgiveness." Still with her head to the side.

"Forgiveness!" He laughed, but spoke with increasing anger. "Which speeches would you take back? Your sermon on my cruelty as a master? The implication that I am not a gentleman? Or your accusations of my character and capacity for true feeling?"

She flinched at his vehemence and whispered, "I am heartily ashamed of all that. I certainly don't think so now and consider myself a proud and ignorant fool for being so prejudiced and determined to see fault where there was only difference. I have grown wiser, however, and now I…" some gentleness, some tenderness in her voice made him look at her so hopefully he couldn't bear the suspense. She wavered and steadied herself, "… I have a better opinion of you than you have of me at the moment."

He exhaled and stepped back. "Ah. That is all."

"Well…" she looked down at her hands as if she would draw strength from them, then looked up determinately and said quickly, "I suppose I deserve the mortification, and you can feel revenged on me to learn that I –" and here she had to look down again, " – imagine I feel the same unreturned feelings you once professed to have for me."

She glanced up at him with a shy, sad, rueful smile, as if expecting him to laugh at her, only to encounter his completely blank, shocked expression. For a moment he just stood there senseless, staring at her without understanding. Then, suddenly recovering himself, he took her hands and leaned down to look into her eyes.

"Margaret!" his voice broke and he breathed heavily. "Margaret! Do you really love me? Can you love me?" He searched her eyes and saw the answer reflected there in the sudden well of tears as she began to tremble.

She wrenched her hands free and covered her face. He put his arms around her and whispered down into her ear, "Margaret, please! Can you love me?" Her body shook with something between an exhale and a sigh, and she looked up at him, smiling tentatively.

"Mr. Thornton… I'm so sorry!" and she fell, embarrassed, against his lapel to hide her face. He held her close and for a few long moments just stood there silently, dazed and unbelieving.

Suddenly Mr. Hale called from upstairs, "John, is that you? Come on up!"

Margaret gasped and pulled herself away, only to encounter Mr. Thornton's beautiful smile. Wordlessly, he grabbed her hand and pulled her after him as he hurried up the stairs. They fairly ran into Mr. Hale's study. He looked up, surprised to see Margaret clutching Mr. Thornton's hand and giggling like a schoolgirl while simultaneously wiping away tears. Mr. Thornton gave her a quick smile and then turned a mischievous, laughing face to his future father-in-law.

"Mr. Hale, may I please request permission to marry your daughter?"

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_Author's Note: I would really appreciate if you took a moment to review - criticism too, please - I would like to improve my writing. Thanks! :)_

_Special thanks to Golden Sunflower for editing and inspiration.  
_


	2. Let Her Stay

**PREMISE: Why wait 400 pages? There were plenty of opportunities for Margaret and Thornton to have gotten together earlier! Shall we explore each one? **

(Let me know if you've found another possibility!)

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**SETTING: After Margaret takes leave of the Thorntons and is waiting for her coach. Begins after the following passage, from the book:**

_As … he and Margaret stood close  
together on the door-step … it was impossible but that the  
recollection of the day of the riot should force itself into both  
their minds. Into his it came associated with the speeches of the  
following day; her passionate declaration that there was not a  
man in all that violent and desperate crowd, for whom she did not  
care as much as for him. And at the remembrance of her taunting  
words, his brow grew stern, though his heart beat thick with  
longing love. 'No!' said he, 'I put it to the touch once, and I  
lost it all. Let her go,--with her stony heart, and her  
beauty;--how set and terrible her look is now, for all her  
loveliness of feature! She is afraid I shall speak what will  
require some stern repression. Let her go. Beauty and heiress as  
she may be, she will find it hard to meet with a truer heart than  
mine. Let her go!'_

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**~ ~ ~ LET HER STAY** ~ ~ ~

And yet, as she was seemed about to disappear from him forever, he instinctively reached out in a clumsy attempt to detain her. Though she was lost to him in the way he desperately wanted, perhaps he could still hope for some connection to her.

He cleared his throat and tried to cloak any emotion he felt at saying what he feared were his last words to her.

"If you are ever in need of anything, Miss Hale, I hope you will think of me as a friend at your service."

He almost imagined that she had not heard; she continued staring straight ahead of her, her expression unchanged. He would not repeat himself, thinking it inappropriate to burden a woman in mourning with what, he told himself, she would interpret as mere pleasantries, so he kept silent.

After a moment, her gaze still unbroken, she said quietly, "You were never a friend to me."

He absolutely started. "Excuse me?" He thought that perhaps he had misheard.

She looked at the falling snow. "You were a kind friend to my father and very attentive to my mother, and I am grateful. But you never cared about me."

He shifted his feet, confused and uncomfortable. "I believe you will recall that at one time I told you how very much I cared for you."

"Yes," she gave a bitter laugh. "You proposed marriage, were refused, and never said another kind word to me." She turned to him. "Was that love?"

He stared at her, and she continued. "You stopped acknowledging my presence. If you looked at me at all, it was with anger and offence. When my mother died, I had to bear the grief of all my family and express none. Did you think to be a friend to me then? You saved me from the inquest for my father's sake, but you suspected and despised me. Was that love?"

He found his tongue and protested, "What would you have me think? Alone, at night, with a gentleman – "

She cut him off abruptly, her voice low and seething with indignation. "I would imagine that if a man truly loved a woman, he would be sure enough of her character to trust her actions!"

"And if the woman refused to give any explanation?"

"If he were confident of her virtue, he would need none! He would understand that extraordinary circumstances may arise which prevent her from confiding in him. He would not be so full of his own importance to imagine that he should be privy to her every motive!"

He staggered. "…I am full of myself, you say?"

"Yes," she said, breathing heavily. "I do. Did you ever once think of how _I_ must be feeling? Suspected of the most grievous impropriety, unable to exonerate myself in the eyes of the man I…" a fleeting blush of confusion before she caught herself. "I had no female companionship, no one to confide in, no one to concern themselves in my welfare. Did you think of offering your help then, when I needed it?

"You thought only of yourself, of avoiding someone who had caused you mortification. If any tender feelings remained, they evaporated completely when you discovered my falsehood. Your looks of anger turned to contempt. You never cared for me!"

"You know I did!"

"Why did you stay away then? When my father died," Here her voice broke, and he was willing to die to prevent her tears. "I was orphaned and utterly, utterly alone – why didn't you offer your friendship then? Why did you not come to me then?"

"A man who felt less might have."

"A man who felt anything would have felt compassion! He would have forgotten himself in the service of another! I know this – for I have spent my entire miserable existence in Milton putting my cares aside and tending to my family, who have one by one been taken from me. And when I was alone, and needed a kind word more than ever, there was no one to care for me. No offers of friendship then – only now, that you know I am leaving forever and will never avail myself of your insincere gesture. " She was shaking. "Is that love?" She almost spat out, "You don't know what love is!"

She turned away from him and descended the stairs rapidly.

The anger and bitterness in his voice arrested her. "You had much rather give lectures on cruelty than love."

She whirled around in surprised offense as he continued. "You imagine that because your love is returned, and mine is unrequited, that you have better authority on the subject."

She didn't understand. "My love returned?"

He turned away, "If I could, I would forget how you clung to him, how you looked at him …"

She was utterly confused. "Who?"

He turned to her, exasperated. "That man at the station, the – "

She gasped with realization. "How dare you!" She trembled with fury, "How dare you imply…! A lover! And I thought you were a gentleman."

He understood her implication immediately – he was not her lover – and as jealousy and suspicion disappeared in an instant, hope and prayer took their place. He ran down the stairs to face her. "I am not a gentleman or even a rational man when I am so enraged with envy. Tell me then, if he was not… then who was he?"

She seethed with anger. "After such offense, you do not deserve to know!" She turned away to make for the gate, but he grabbed her hand.

"Please! I beg you! End my agony and tell me who he was!" He pleaded.

She wrenched her hand free and spoke. "I will tell you. I will tell you and you can content yourself forever with memories of your ludicrous jealousy and imagined virtue." He was breathing heavily and waiting for her explanation.

"He was my brother."

He stared at her for a full minute without a word. "Why wouldn't Mr. Hale tell me he had a son?"

She tried to be as brief as possible. "He was in danger from the law, despite being completely innocent. If discovered in England, he would face court martial and probable execution, a situation which understandably forced us into such secrecy. Although you were a good friend of my father's, your also being a magistrate convinced him that you should know nothing of Frederick's situation."

He spoke with all the shock that such a revelation could be expected to produce. "Had Mr. Hale told me the circumstances, that your brother was indeed innocent, I would not have breathed a word of it to anyone, magistrate or no."

"Ah!" She smiled wryly in triumph. "You would obstruct the course of justice? You would perpetrate a dishonesty, go against the principles of a public servant?"

"If the situation demanded it, if it was indeed an extraordinary circumstance, a misunderstanding in the workings of justice, then yes, I would protect him although it would be evading my responsibilities."

He was trying to reassure her of his dependability, not seeing the trap she had set for him. "So you admit that there are grave enough circumstances possible, which would require a falsehood?"

"Yes…"

"And yet rather than trust in me and believe that my lie was somehow necessary, that there may be some spectacular circumstance which absolutely required me to act as I did, you condemned me and leapt straight to suspicion of wrongdoing."

He was caught, and tried desperately to save himself. "I told you before that I am not rational when there is more than just the intellect involved... I loved you and was jealous of that gentleman – forgive me again for the implication, I was wild with envy and knew only that you despised me and looked fondly upon another – "

"Yes, you fancied you loved me at one time. But it was not love! Perhaps it was an imagined obligation, or maybe just a pitiful, passing whim – one so flimsy as to vanish completely at the first obstacle. I do not know what it was, but it was not love!"

For him who had continued to love her fiercely despite every impediment – despite refusal, jealousy and suspicion – her words were unbearable.

"A passing whim you call it!" He leaned down to look at her intently, and spoke with trembling determination. "Listen to me – I have loved you since the day we met. Perhaps it was irrational at first, it was probable foolishness to persist after your rejection, and it is certainly madness now that we are parting forever. But I have never – hear me, and understand that I have never willingly humiliated myself to anyone before this – I have never ceased loving you."

She looked in his eyes and saw aching sincerity. Unable to face his ardor, reluctant to observe his humiliation and at once confused in her own feelings, she turned from him and hurried away.

He overtook her before she had made more than one step, and stood before her to prevent her escape.

"Margaret," he said urgently, forgetting himself and using her name as he always thought of her. "Forgive me, I – " He suddenly realized that she was crying and trying desperately not to. "Margaret, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it, I distress you –"

"I beg your pardon," she said as proudly as she could while trying to compose herself. "I have not had the leisure for tears. I am only now beginning to face my situation, and I haven't the strength …" a sob escaped her and she quickly lowered her face and tried to move around him, but he blocked her.

"Margaret, please, listen to me." His voice was so soft, so desperate, that she reluctantly raised her eyes. "I _was_ selfish. I was blind. Forgive me! Forgive and understand me! You looked so poised, so confident. I thought you needed nothing, and that last of all you would wish to see someone you so decidedly disliked. I avoided you because I had nothing to offer you. What I had offered was rejected, and I dared not offer anything else."

Exhaustion overtook her and she sank down inelegantly on the steps, all attempts at a semblance of composure forgotten. "I wanted you to come," she whispered, leaning against the railing. "I waited for you, hoped you still cared enough to…" she looked down at the snow covering her dress, the soft white snowflakes gently obliterating her mourning. "I don't dislike you, and haven't almost since the day I told you I did. I suppose I have been suitably punished for my error."

"But I have come now. Will you welcome me now, though I am late, and have been foolish and unkind?" He tried one last time. Kneeling in front of her and taking her hands, he implored her gently, "Will you have me now? Stay with me and never again bear any burden alone. As G-d is my witness, I will cherish and protect you from all the world. You will never find a truer heart than mine."

In reply, she brought his hands to her lips and fairly fell against him as he embraced her there, clumsily on the steps. They remained there for many moments, oblivious to the cold and falling snow until the carriage drove up and interrupted their intimacy.

She looked up at him worriedly and grasped his hands tighter, but his smile reassured her. "Thank you, coachman, you can go." He looked back at Margaret. "She's coming home with me."

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_Author's Note: Thank you to all my readers and reviewers. Please take a moment to leave a constructive review - I am trying to improve my writing. Thank you!_

_Special thanks to Golden Sunflower for editing and everything else._


	3. Remarkable for Truth

**PREMISE: Why wait 400 pages? There were plenty of opportunities for Margaret and Thornton to have gotten together earlier! Shall we explore each one? **

(Let me know if you've found another possibility!)

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**SETTING: Chapter 40 of the book. Mr. Thornton is taking tea with Mr. Hale, Margaret and Mr. Bell.**

_The italicized paragraphs are direct excerpts from the book.

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_**~ ~ ~ REMARKABLE FOR TRUTH ~ ~ ~ **

…_Margaret felt, rather than saw, that Mr. Thornton was chagrined  
by the repeated turning into jest of what he was feeling as very  
serious. She tried to change the conversation from a subject  
about which one party cared little, while, to the other, it was  
deeply, because personally, interesting. She forced herself to  
say something._

_'Edith says she finds the printed calicoes in Corfu better and  
cheaper than in London.'_

_'Does she?' said her father. 'I think that must be one of Edith's  
exaggerations. Are you sure of it, Margaret?'_

_'I am sure she says so, papa.'_

_'Then I am sure of the fact,' said Mr. Bell. 'Margaret, I go so  
far in my idea of your truthfulness, that it shall cover your  
cousin's character. I don't believe a cousin of yours could  
exaggerate.'_

_'Is Miss Hale so remarkable for truth?' said Mr. Thornton,  
bitterly. The moment he had done so, he could have bitten his  
tongue out. What was he? And why should he stab her with her  
shame in this way? How evil he was to-night; possessed by  
ill-humour at being detained so long from her; irritated by the  
mention of some name, because he thought it belonged to a more  
successful lover…_

_She sat quite still, after the first momentary glance of grieved  
surprise, that made her eyes look like some child's who has met  
with an unexpected rebuff; they slowly dilated into mournful,  
reproachful sadness; and then they fell, and she bent over her  
work, and did not speak again. But he could not help looking at  
her, and he saw a sigh tremble over her body, as if she quivered  
in some unwonted chill. … he was uneasy and cross, unable to discern between  
jest and earnest; anxious only for a look, a word of hers, before  
which to prostrate himself in penitent humility. But she neither  
looked nor spoke. Her round taper fingers flew in and out of her  
sewing, as steadily and swiftly as if that were the business of  
her life. She could not care for him, he thought, or else the  
passionate fervour of his wish would have forced her to raise  
those eyes, if but for an instant, to read the late repentance in  
his. He could have struck her … in order that by  
some strange overt act of rudeness, he might earn the privilege  
of telling her the remorse that gnawed at his heart._

Suddenly, as if she could bear it no longer, she stood up and carelessly dropping her work into her basket, walked hurriedly out of the room. He noticed her movement immediately and followed her eyes with great yearning as she brushed past him, but she was oblivious to it and did not look at him or at anyone. She kept her eyes fixed determinately on some imagined point in the distance, in an attempt to keep them occupied for fear that they would give in to her forcibly stifled inclination to dissolve in a flood of tears.

This did not escape his acute observation and he forgot himself in his remorse and suppressed passion – just as she passed him, he stood up and reached out to grab her hand. She wheeled around in surprise, but then quickly turned back, her trembling hand still firmly in his grasp. The two other men sat up slightly alarmed and watched them stand there for a moment, looking like a still painting of a lover's quarrel, he yearning and reaching out, she tearful and turned away. After a moment she collected herself and gently disengaged her hand, in order to bring it up to cover her face as she ran from the room. He ran after and intercepted her before she had reached the staircase.

"Margaret, forgive me," he began. She held her face averted and tried to pass him, but he would not let her. She thought to push past him but the awkwardness of the physical contact such an activity would inevitably incur dissuaded her. "Margaret, please… I had no right to speak as I did – forgive me." Her expression had been abashed and reticent, but at these words she turned her head to him slowly and he wondered how she could so charmingly blend hauteur and shame in the same glance. She straightened her back a little but had to lower her face almost immediately as her measured tones broke into half-sobs.

"You apologize for the words, not the sentiment." When she saw that he did not understand, she continued. "It is not your words which pain me, but that they are proof of your degraded opinion of me."

"You never cared what I thought about anything – or how I felt." She blushed at this reminder of her formerly dismissive and sometimes contemptuous treatment of him.

Unsure of what to say, she cast about for a safe response. "I… should hate to lose your friendship."

He stepped back. "Are we friends now?"

"We must be, for you to do me such a service. You knew of my falsehood, yet saved me from a public sin." She turned away with the shame of her recollections. "Though the contempt on your face when you refused my gratitude has given me no rest since."

"It wasn't contempt. It was anger. Anger fueled by – forgive me – fueled by jealousy. I am haunted too – by the expression on your face when you looked at that gentleman at the station…" here his voice became gruff and bitter, "how clearly you seemed to love him. I have had no peace since."

She thought her legs would give way. "You imagined him to be… I thought you despised me for my lie, it did not enter my mind that you suspected…" As the tears began, she lost all determination at propriety and fairly pushed him aside as she hurried to hide her broken composure. She rushed up the stairs only to collapse on the first landing in sobs that shook her whole body.

He knelt on the step in front of her and felt wretched and powerless to do anything but protest and stammer. "Margaret, I meant no offense. I never suspected any impropriety – I never had any doubt in your modesty and virtue to imagine that you would step outside the bounds of respectability. I cannot explain but equally cannot forget and what I saw – that you loved another. It has made me wild with jealousy to the point that I am not myself. Please forgive me."

She kept her face turned down to conceal her tear-stained countenance. She had had enough of the concealment and thought only that she wanted his love, wanted to deserve his love, and so tried to reveal the truth and her innocence. "That man was not – " the agitation of her emotions forced her to gasp between every attempt, "Please believe – " She raised her face only to quickly hide it again, "Please don't think – !"

"You don't need to explain yourself," he said gently. He held out his handkerchief, and as she reached for it blindly, and her soft trembling hand brushed his rough palm, his aching desire to touch it again, to touch it always, almost propelled him to say what only his pride forbid him from repeating. "Forgive me."

She steadied herself with a great effort, and said, "He was my brother. We don't talk of him, and his coming for mother's death was kept as secretly as possible – he is in trouble with the law – though completely innocent – if discovered he could be killed. I could not tell you – and you thought – I _did_ love him! But he is my brother – "

His heart beat wildly as the information overwhelmed him. "He was your brother!" He let his face fall against the banister. "Thank you, for telling me."

Calmer, but still trembling, she whispered, "I thought you despised me. I couldn't bear it."

He smiled, "Do you care what I think?"

"Very much." The longing and vulnerability in her voice was all the encouragement he needed. He took her hand, and after a moment she hesitatingly wrapped her other hand around his. Suddenly, to his utter surprise and incalculable joy, she brought his hand up to her cheek.

He brought his free hand up to lift her face, though she kept her eyes cast down. "Why don't you look at me, my love?"

"I have been crying," she tried to smile. "I am not fit to be seen."

"I do not love you because you are beautiful, though you are – the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I love you because you are my Margaret – the kindest, truest, most spectacular and enigmatic girl I know."

She looked up shyly and bit her lip, which only drew his attention to something from which he could no longer prevent himself.

*** * ***

Left to themselves, Mr. Hale and Mr. Bell sat in silence for a few moments, concerned enough to worry, but delicate enough not to intrude. Mr. Bell finally spoke.

_  
'Hale! did it ever strike you that Thornton and your daughter  
have what the French call a tendresse for each other?'_

_'Never!' said Mr. Hale, first startled and then flurried by the  
new idea. 'No, I am sure you are wrong. I am almost certain you  
are mistaken. If there is anything, it is all on Mr. Thornton's  
side. Poor fellow! I hope and trust he is not thinking of her,  
for I am sure she would not have him.'_

_'Well! I'm a bachelor, and have steered clear of love affairs all  
my life; so perhaps my opinion is not worth having. Or else I  
should say there were very pretty symptoms about her!'_

_'Then I am sure you are wrong,' said Mr. Hale. 'He may care for  
her, though she really has been almost rude to him at times. But  
she!--why, Margaret would never think of him, I'm sure! Such a  
thing has never entered her head.'_

_'Entering her heart would do. But I merely threw out a suggestion  
of what might be. I dare say I was wrong.'_

This finally prompted Mr. Hale to leave the room in search of his daughter, and to his complete surprise, found her in the arms of Mr. Thornton. In the moment it took him to find his tongue, Mr. Hale perceived that she welcomed his embrace and was unresisting.

"John!" Surprised in their position, Thornton wheeled around to face Mr. Hale, before hastily turning back to Margaret and whispering, "You will marry me?"

She smiled, "Well, now I have to." For a moment he looked so genuinely alarmed that she quickly added, "I want to!" As he helped her stand, she looked up at him sincerely. "I have hoped for nothing else for weeks."

He led her back into the parlor and presented himself to an expectant Mr. Hale. "Mr. Hale, may I please request permission to marry your daughter?"

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_Author's Note: Thank you to all my readers and reviewers. Please take a moment to leave a constructive review - I am trying to improve my writing. Thank you!_

_Special thanks to Golden Sunflower for editing and everything else._


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